


All That I Will Be

by Sabishiioni



Series: Because of You [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Feelings, Fluffy, I'm Sorry, M/M, Some angst, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2236596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabishiioni/pseuds/Sabishiioni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things need to be said for hearts to mend. Continued from "All That I Was".</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That I Will Be

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them (Even the ones in bold, please)  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: The last in the Because of You Series

The tree grew at the very top of the hill. It overlooked a grass covered valley to one side and an evergreen forest to the other. The swing that hung from one of the many branches swayed in the gentle breeze. A hand caught the rope stilling it before the man sat on the wooden seat.

D’Artagnan’s gaze was drawn to the area where the plains met the forest. It was nice where he was, but something told him that eventually he would need to leave the hill and chose his path. Would he go down the path that led through the sunlit grasses? Or the cool comforts of the shade trees so much like the ones that grew behind his childhood home?

He sighed, letting his hands fall into his lap. It didn’t matter where he went. He would still be alone. Even sitting under the huge tree, he was without company. No birds, no forest creatures- even the buzzing of insects was missing. Perhaps this was his punishment; an eternity spent with only his own voice to break the silence. Now, more than ever, he didn’t want to leave this tree.

“There is another path, one that is harder but you would not travel it alone.”

D’Artagnan looked up, surprised to see Athos standing there, looking over the field. The man held himself much like he had when they entered his mansion; like this was the last place he really wanted to be. The younger man looked down again, feeling that he was unwanted by the man he thought so highly of but not blaming him.

“Who would want to travel with me?” he asked softly. “The damned?”

“Only if those damned would walk with you as brothers.”

The hand on his shoulder kept him from jumping off the swing in disbelief. Instead he turned his head to find Aramis staring at the forest. He appeared ready to bolt, as if the memories of Savoy were returning to life. D’Artagnan let out a choked sob, remembering how the three gave comfort to each other in light of Marsac’s burial.

“Who would consider me a brother?” His hands clenched tightly. “Friendship…love…they are things I am not worthy of, especially not from those I care about.”

“You are worthy and we would prove it to you, if you would let us have but one more chance.”

Dark skinned hands wrapped around his own, gently squeezing. He lifted his eyes to see Porthos, his head turned to look behind them. There, another path appeared, leading into a maze of thorns and brambles. Nothing about it appeared inviting. Yet, for reasons unbeknownst to him, this path seemed to be calling him, tugging on his heart to follow it.

“Please, d’Artagnan. Don’t leave us just when our eyes have been opened.”

He wasn’t sure who said that; perhaps it had been all three. The ‘who’ wasn’t as important as the request itself. This was where here had to go. It didn’t matter if there was pain on this way- the ones he loved would be waiting for him on the other side. He knew this to be true to the very depth of his heart.

***  
“He’s coming to…”

Athos released the breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding as brown eyes fluttered open. He tightened his hold on the boy, pressing a gentle kiss to the dark hair. “Welcome back, d’Artagnan.”

“You gave us all quite a scare, young man,” Aramis gently scolded as he sat down next to the pair already on the bed.

“Sor…sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry. Wasn’t your fault.” Porthos poured a cup of water and handed it to Athos before settling down across from Aramis.

“Here, drink.” Athos held the cup to chapped lips and helped the man take small sips. He set the empty cup on the nightstand and returned to his position of just cradling d’Artagnan. His expression darkened when the body in his arms tensed.

“D’Artagnan? Am I hurting you?”

Amber colored eyes stared at him, though he couldn’t tell if it was from fear or awe. “You’re holding me…”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Lowering his eyes, d’Artagnan weakly shook his head. “No, you’re not hurting me…but…you don’t have to touch me if you don’t want to.”

Athos relaxed a bit glancing at the worried expressions on the faces of the other two men. “And if is what I wish?”

“Why?”

Athos heard the twin pained gasps from his lovers but ignored them for now. “Why would I not want to have you in my arms?”

“Because you have Aramis and Porthos…” The reply was muffled as the younger man buried his head in the older man’s shirt, as if to avoid the gazes from his friends.

Aramis reached for the boy, tears spilling from his eyes, but Athos signaled him to hold off for the moment. “And what if I say that I am a greedy man who needs you as well?”

A trembling hand reached up to weakly clutch at the cream colored fabric. D’Artagnan slowly lifted his head. “I don’t understand…what need could you have of me?”

Athos cupped the gaunt and pale cheek, thanking whatever god Aramis prayed to for sparing this young life, though his heart nearly shattered when the boy leaned into the touch. “Perhaps…I am in need of your love.”

“Lord knows he need as much as he can get,” Porthos quietly spoke up with an almost real smile.

D’Artagnan turned his head to gaze at the man. “But he’s always had it…”

“Just as you always had ours…” Aramis could resist no longer, lifting his hand to tuck a lock of dark hair behind an ear. Tears fell from the older man’s eyes.

“We do love you, d’Artagnan, all three of us. Even if we are stupid enough to forget to show you…”

A quivering hand brushed away a line of salty water. “Please don’t weep for me, Aramis. I’m not worth it.”

“You are worth the tears, d’Artagnan.” Athos gently hugged the boy in his arms. “You are worth all the tears, blood and sweat that we would give to keep you by our side. And we are so very sorry for the pain we inflicted on you with our careless actions.”

Now d’Artagnan stared at Athos with a look of utter confusion. “You have never harmed me…”

“We did but it took you nearly getting’ yerself killed ‘for we saw how badly.” Porthos took one of the boy’s hands, desperately needing to feel it close around his, assuring him that their young friend was indeed alive.

“We hurt you here,” Athos said, his hand brushing lightly over the man’s heart, mindful of the bandages. “You were there for us when we needed you, giving yourself to us and yet never asking for anything in return.”

“We want to make it up to you…” Aramis started, before scowling at his words. “No…we must make it up to you as a small step towards earning your forgiveness.”

Obviously exhausted from both his still healing injuries and the emotionally charged conversation, d’Artagnan slumped in Athos’ embrace. “There is nothing to forgive. I wished for something that could never be and so the fault is mine alone.”

The three musketeers instinctively close the space between them, wrapping the youngest in a cocoon of warmth and silently sworn protection. Even though their faces were wet from tears, smiles of hope rest upon their lips. Each of them gave the boy a gentle kiss- Athos on the forehead, Aramis on the shoulder and Porthos on the inside wrist.

“You wished for something that is within our power, and our desire, to give to you. Let us.”

Peering into the boy’s eyes as d’Artagnan looked up, Athos could see lingering traces of hurt and loneliness, but there was something else there as well. Trust was just starting to blossom in those deep pools of near blackness. Not wanting to lose that glimmer, he dipped his head to capture the chapped lips in a chaste kiss, letting it linger for a moment before pulling back.

“Please?”

D’Artagnan glanced at the other two men. “Is…is this something you both want as well?”

Aramis nodded eagerly. “Very much so! We do love you, d’Artagnan. Of that, there was never any doubt. And…I think you love us as well.”

The body in his arms went taut as d’Artagnan struggled to sit up. Athos held him just a bit tighter, keeping him from over taxing himself, but helping, none the less. He could see the desperation coloring the still too pale face of their young companion and it made his heart skip a few beats.

“I do! I love all three of you! So much, it scares me sometimes…” He relaxed into the embrace, realizing that it was futile to fight the arms holding him. “But you have each other…”

Porthos tilted his head. “We do. And we’ve been together long enough ta realize when we’re missing something.”

Despite the fever and blood loss, a light pink dusting managed to appear on d’Artagnan’s cheeks. Athos could feel the weariness settling in after that bout of enthusiasm, causing him to softly smile. He maneuvered the younger man so he was lying in the bed, head on the multiple pillows they had gathered. He gently pulled the blankets up to cover the younger man.

“Sleep. We will be here when you wake and we can talk more.”

“Promise?”

His heart once again hitched at the muffled question, as d’Artagnan weakly snuggle into the covers. “Promise.”

***  
D’Artagnan woke to find he was alone in the room. He couldn’t help but feel a bit upset, even though someone had been present the last four mornings and all three musketeers spent as much time as they could with him throughout the day. As he struggled to sit up on his own, he tried to quiet the small voice in his head that whispered to him.

“No…they love me.” D’Artagnan spoke softly, trying to banish the voice. “It must have been something important for all of them to leave…”

It was only after he was sitting up that he saw the small package on the nightstand next to the bed. It rested next to the cup of water Aramis kept filled for him, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine. Curious, he picked it up and carefully removed the paper.

A small, leather bound book the size of the prayer book that Aramis had in his position and a folded sheet of paper fell from the wrappings. Now completely confused, picked up the paper, finding it to be a letter written in flowing script of of their resident marksman.

_Dearest D’Artagnan,_

_We love you. We always have and we always will. Nothing will ever change that._

_This book is to remind you of that, even when we fail to show you. Each of us put down in our own words, what we feel for you. These words are for you alone so we have not read what the others wrote. The rest of the pages are for your thoughts and fears, though we hope that at some point soon, you will feel comfortable in talking with us about these things._

_Please, never forget that we love you._

D’Artagnan set aside the letter and picked up the book, opening it to the first page. He read through the entries, tears filling his eyes at the pure emotions put to paper. He could honestly feel how loved he really was. For the first time in a very long time, his chest ached not with loneliness but with affection for the three men.

A now rare smile came to rest on lips as d’Artagnan fought to get to his feet. He managed to slip on a pair of breeches before making his way out of the room, still clutching the book. It was only then that he realized that he was in the guest room of Porthos’ home. Using the wall for support, he made his way to the living room where his lovers were gathered, talking softly.

Porthos was the first to see him and shot to his feet. “D’Artagnan! Ya shouldn’t be up yet!”

“How could I stay in bed after reading this?” he asked softly, holding up the journal.

Sighing softly, Porthos walked over to the younger man and helped him to the couch. Athos sat down with him, pulling the younger man down so his head rested on the pillow in his lap, the rest of his body curled up to lie on his side. Aramis grabbed a blanket, covering the boy with it.

D’Artagnan blushed as he was fussed over, bringing the gift to his chest. “You needn’t worry so much. I’m no longer on Deaths doorstep.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe we want to take care of you?” Aramis asked from his kneeling position next to the couch.

“We ‘ave a lot o’ lost time ta make up fer,” Porthos added, concern causing him to slip into old speaking habits.

D’Artagnan chuckled. “You have nothing to make up for.”

“You took a bullet for me. I think that is something.” Athos replied as he ran his fingers through the dark hair of his companion. “Not to mention the time you help save me from the river.”

“And all the times you helped save the King and country.”

The Gascon looked at Aramis, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. “That’s stretching it, Aramis.”

The man shrugged. “We still feel indebted to you for not seeing what was there in front of us.”

D’Artagnan sighed. “Aramis…Porthos…Athos…You have given me your hearts. No debt is owed to me.”

“But we broke _yer_ heart.”

“And with this, it has started to mend. Please…forgive yourselves as I have forgiven you.” He reached out a hand to both Aramis and Porthos, letting the journal rest on the cushion of the couch, his smile growing when they took them. “I love all three of you too much to see you hurting.”

“Then I believe we have come to an understanding,” Athos spoke with a small upturning of his lips. “You will allow us to tend to you as you heal, thereby letting us heal with you.”

D’Artagnan sighed, giving in. “Fine. But don’t blame me if I get used to this.”

Aramis smirked, not letting go of the hand clutched in his. “Oh, trust me, dear one. It will only get better. Just wait until you are healed!”

Porthos shook his head. “So ya liked yer gift?”

Letting go of the dark skinned hand, d’Artagnan once again seized the book. “It’s perfect.”

“That’s good considering tha debate we had o’er it!”

D’Artagnan’s eyebrows rose, sensing a good story behind the gift. He turned his head as Aramis kissed the hand he held before tucking it under the blanket.

“Porthos suggested a pendant or some other jewelry, but Athos was dead set against it. He suggested something useful like a dagger or a new blade but Porthos pointed out that all of your weapons were from your father.”

“I apologize for forgetting that.”

“It’s alright…” His weapons were dear to him, but he had learned the hard way that he should carry the memories of his father in his heart and not in his blades or guns. 

“Aramis was the one who came up with the idea for the book.” Athos’ voice took on an amused tone. “It probably saved the debate from dissolving into a wrestling match.”

“Which I woulda won…” Porthos muttered just loud enough for d’Artagnan to hear and get a quiet bark of laughter from.

“It was a good idea.” D’Artagnan said, trying to suppress a yawn. 

“Go ahead and rest. We’ll have dinner when you wake up.” Athos brushed back the dark hair, a look of fondness coloring his expression.

“Together?” The slurred question came from a half asleep guardsman.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> There are some people that I want to thank:
> 
> [EmeraldJaded](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldJaded/pseuds/EmeraldJaded) For helping me pick out the gift!  
> [Sigmund](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/pseuds/Sigmund) For the wonderful Tumblr message and the beautiful story!  
> And to Moonrose91, JEAikman and all of you who commented and gave this series Kudos, commented or bookmarked it. Thank you all so very much!


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